


6,000 Years Is a Long Time to Wait

by Sammy_is_obsessed



Series: 6,000 Years, That's an Awfully Long Time to Wait [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angsty Love Confession, Crowley/Aziraphale - Freeform, M/M, argument, aziraphale - Freeform, crowley - Freeform, don't worry it'll get sorted out in the next chapter, good omens - Freeform, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-05-31 18:37:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19431799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_is_obsessed/pseuds/Sammy_is_obsessed
Summary: It had been weeks since the apoca-wasn't. Things would be very different from there on own out, Crowley had suspected. Times had changed forever, after all, and the line between good and evil had grown even hazier. Neither he nor Aziraphale had heard so much as a peep from their superiors since the stunt they pulled, and he doubted they’d hear anything from them for a very long time. Or maybe he just hopped. No matter, things had changed regardless, and Crowley was ready for it. He’d been aching for it for centuries.Why, then, did things feel exactly the same?





	1. Maybe he'd been a little drunk, after all

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, this is a little angsty because that's just how it is with these two, but don't worry. The next chapter will fix things up and the fluff will come. I'd love to hear what you guys think, comments are always appreciated! Enjoy.

It had been weeks since the apoca-wasn't. Things would be very different from there on own out, Crowley had suspected. Times had changed forever, after all, and the line between good and evil had grown even hazier. Neither he nor Aziraphale had heard so much as a peep from their superiors since the stunt they pulled, and he doubted they’d hear anything from them for a very long time. Or maybe he just hopped. No matter, things had changed regardless, and Crowley was ready for it. He’d been aching for it for centuries.

Why, then, did things feel exactly the same?

They dined at all of Aziraphale’s favorite little restaurants where the staff knew him by name, they fed the ducks, they got drunk in the back room of the bookshop. Business as usual. The _bloody_ same as always. Crowley felt like an idiot; it was just the bus ride back to his flat the night after everything had happened…they had held hands. It wasn’t the first time they’d done so, but it had been a very long time and the feeling of Aziraphale’s well-manicured hand heavy and secure in his own had warmed him down to the bone. He’d been tip-toeing around the rather messy issue that was his feelings for the angel for a melena and now that they were truly on their own he thought…

Well, he had expectations and so far, he’d been severely let down. He didn’t mean to sound full of himself or anything of the matter – because _really_ , he wasn’t – but Crowley was almost 100% certain Aziraphale loved him back. There were just so many moments where their eyes had met for a touch too long, or a secretive little smile etched across the angel’s face, or he commented on all the love he was feeling around him at any particular moment. Aziraphale was Crowley’s best friend, his _only_ friend and he was perfectly content with that for the most part but…

Then there was the hunger in him, the little bit of him that truly made him feel demonic, he supposed. Or maybe just a little human. The part of himself that he had to bury deep so that he didn’t give in and kiss Aziraphale like crazy.

He’d been patient to say anything, 6,000 years of waiting was a pretty fucking long time, but now it felt like everything had sort of just fizzled out. Nothing would change, Aziraphale would love sushi, and his tartan suits and books but _not_ Crowley. And that stung, it burned in his chest every moment he was around Aziraphale, which was quite often these days. His love for Aziraphale had always burned dully, but it was becoming persistently worse. Too much to withstand.

One night sitting in Aziraphale’s backroom after gorging themselves on wine, the twisting pain became unbearable.

“Angel, we’re on our own now, you know.” Despite how much alcohol he’d partaken in, Crowley didn’t _feel_ drunk. As far as he saw it, his head had never been clearer. Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully, pouring himself another glass.

“Yes, I’m fully aware, my dear.” And oh, boy did that sting. _My Dear_. Crowley’s sprawl across the entirety of the sofa withered as he sat up, spine straight as an arrow and well, that wasn’t very like Crowley at all. In the dim light, and with all the wine they’d had, Crowley looked a little pale.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, full of affection – per usual, but it was a bit more pertinent just now – “Are you quite alright?” Crowley’s head snapped up as he realized he’d been staring absently into his empty glass for at least the last few minutes. His shades slid down the bridge of his nose. His trembling hand corrected him.

“Me? _‘M_ fine, right as rain. Everything is _Tickety-bo_ o…” Several bottles of wine around them were refilled simultaneously. Crowley turned his head to see the red liquid sloshing back to where it had been before. Huh. Aziraphale was sobering up.

“You’re lying,” Aziraphale deduces, studying him carefully. Crowley didn’t appreciate the accusation, nor did he like the way Aziraphale was looking at him. “Come on, Crowley. It’s just me, you would tell me if something was troubling you, wouldn’t you?” Crowley grit his teeth, shaded eyes meeting grey-blue ones. The most beautiful eyes Crowley had seen in all his life. Like the sky on a clear day, they were. He always felt like he was someplace sunny when he was with Aziraphale, in rain or shine. Just had that effect on him, he guessed. Crowley wondered if other people felt the same way when they came into contact with the angel.

“Well,” he said, voice edging on nervous, which was miles from his usual cool nonchalant way of speech, "I’ve been thinking.”

“Thinking? Oh dear, that’s dangerous work.” Aziraphale stiffened when Crowley didn’t so much as acknowledge the jab. Very odd, indeed. “What’ve you been thinking about?” Crowley swallowed the lump forming in his throat, thinking about how very human he was feeling in his moment.

“About us.”

Crowley noticed the way those sky-blue eyes went wide, and the grip on his glass tightened just a little bit.

“ _Us_ you say? What about us?” Aziraphale’s tone of voice gave it all away. The nervousness, the quickness of his speech, everything furthering what Crowley had already known for decades: Aziraphale loved him back. By god or whomever, he loved him back! Crowley could hardly contain himself he was so happy.

“How-how everything’s changed. We’re not just a demon and an angel anymore.” Aziraphale scoffed as if the statement was ridiculous. Maybe it was.

“– we _are_ still a demon and an angel, though –.”

“Well, yeah. Sure, _physically_ , but we aren’t working towards what we once were anymore. You know as well as I do that I’ve got no real place in hell, just as you have no real place in –.”

“Don’t say it.” Aziraphale snapped. Crowley frowned.

“– heaven.” A disgruntled hurt sort of a look graced Aziraphale’s face and it wasn’t pretty. Well, _he_ was pretty, but the expression was one Crowley found rather sad.

“It’s just the facts, angel. We’ve only got each other now. ~~We’ve always just had each other~~. We can do whatever the hell we please. Anything at all.” Aziraphale was edging away, inch by inch, Crowley could see it. The way he squirmed, the twisted-up grit of his face. His eyes darted around the room like he was looking for an escape route.

“Crowley…” Crowley stood up from the couch, moving closer to Aziraphale. His heart thundered in his chest. How very human...

“No more pretending. No more hiding. Just you and me, Aziraphale,” The desperation in Crowley’s voice soared with each flittering word. Higher and higher until Aziraphale could no longer catch sight of him, hidden by the clouds. “We can go anyplace we want to go, be anyone we want to be. We don’t need to be afraid anymore we can just –.”

“That’s quite enough, Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, standing to face the demon, hands clenched tightly. Crowley’s jaw slackened, a terrible buzzing in his chest.

“Zira…come on.” He was pleading. Begging, maybe.

“Please, don’t do this. Don’t do this to me.” That ignited a fire in the demon’s chest, hot enough to burn the place to the ground. Crowley didn’t mean to get angry or let his frustrations get the better of him. He by no means meant to hurt Aziraphale, god, the thought alone was sickening.

Even so, that’s what happened.

“Don’t do what to you, Aziraphale? Talk about something that’s needed talking about for a bloody long time.” Crowley’s voice came out in a snarl. Aziraphale shuddered.

“C-Crowley you…”

“I, _what_ , Angel? Tell me what in the name of god I do? Do I go too _fast_ for you, Aziraphale? Is 6,000 years too fucking fast? Would you like me to wait another 6,000 years and see if you’re ready to come to terms with the fact that I’m all you’ve got?!” Tears stung at the angel’s eyes as he trembled, eyes cast down. Their night had been so pleasant just a couple of minutes ago and now here they were. Aziraphale sniffled, feeling quite like he did the many times Gabriel antagonized him. Weak. Helpless. _Soft_.

“How –” The angel gulped, voice falling low and flat, “– how dare you be so cruel…?” Crowley didn’t like the question, not one bit and it showed.

“Oh, I’m being cruel, am I?! Well, what’d you fucking expect from a demon, eh? A demon who has spent his entire life being there for you, and caring about you, and _loving_ you," - Crowley hardly comprehended what he'd just admitted, the words were flying out so fast - "How cruel I am, indeed!” Tears were running down Aziraphale’s face now, sobs erupting violently from his throat as he buried his face in his hands, begging silently for mercy. He wasn’t ready, not now, _oh god_ not yet.

“C-Crowley I just c-can’t do this – I –.”

“Do what, Angel? Admit that you don’t give so much as a shit whether or not you hurt me because it’s all about you. It’s all about when _you’ll_ be ready. Well, I’ve been waiting for too damn long and I’m sick of waiting.” With that, Aziraphale’s glass shattered as slipped from his fingers and the door was thrown open. Out into the late London night, an Angel ran as fast and as far as he could go, gone in an instant and leaving a Demon with a gaping hole in his chest alone in his bookshop.

Maybe Crowley had been a little drunk, after all.


	2. Too Much Love Will Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four days. That’s how long it had been since Crowley had last seen Aziraphale. Considering the length of their relationship, four days-time was just the blink of an eye. A tiny blip in the thousands of years they’d been equated. 
> 
> To Crowley, it felt like an eternity and then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy so I know I said that the fluff would come in this chapter, but I've decided to extend the angst a bit. The reunion will come next chapter, this one is some Crowley-centric pain. I'd love to hear what you guys think in the comments! Have a great day/night.

_Four days_. That’s how long it had been since Crowley had last seen Aziraphale. Considering the length of their relationship, four days-time was just the blink of an eye. A tiny blip in the thousands of years they’d been equated. To Crowley, it felt like an eternity and then some.

The night everything had fallen apart Crowley had sulked – something the demon was rather good at with all the practice he’d had – drinking alone in the backroom. He, despite what he might’ve been telling himself, had his gaze fixed on the door the whole of the evening. Crowley waited for Aziraphale to come to his senses and come back so they could talk things through, maturely. _Hah!_ When in the name of heaven or hell had the two of them been known to take the responsible way out and “talk things through”?

By the time the hands of the clock had long since passed the twelve, Crowley found himself curling up on the beat-up old sofa the angel had kept back there for god knows how long, thinking of how Aziraphale would probably be there by the time he woke up. It was _his_ bookshop, after all. If he just shut his eyes for a moment…everything would be just fine…

Crowley woke up to the unpleasantness of morning sunlight streaming in through the shop’s windows curled up on the lumpy couch. Aziraphale, of course, was nowhere to be found. Panic buzzed low in the demon’s chest, just a spark of the fire that was soon to come. Crowley didn’t see it as panic, per se. Concern, _maybe_ , considering the situation, but never panic. He wasn’t becoming increasingly scared with each passing minute; to so much as insinuate such a thing was ridiculous! Demons didn’t get scared, Crowley certainly didn’t. Well, …he’d never really been a very good demon now had he?

_Memories of the fire flashed through his mind. Flames licking up the walls. The unbearable heart. Thick, acrid smoke filling his lungs as he screamed for Aziraphale. As he mourned his best friend. His angel._

Crowley shook his head, tears, _goddamn_ tears pricking at his eyes. He sat up, fumbling on the coffee table for his sunglasses. Alone, he was more vulnerable than when he was with the angel. The glasses came off in front of Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone. If he wasn’t here…well, there was no reason for his eyes to be expensed, now was there?

He decided, in his state of not-panic, that he’d give Aziraphale a quick call. Just one little call to clarify that maybe he’d attacked the issue with a touch too much force. Maybe he’d been a little too harsh. Maybe he was freaking out thinking about the way he spoke to his angel. The phone rang a few times before going to an automated voicemail and Crowley shivered.

_“Angel – hi. It’s me. I was just calling to…well, to see if you were alright. I was damned drunk last night and I…I think I said some things I shouldn’t of. Give me a call when you get a chance, so we can discuss this in person. Maybe at Saint James? Alright…goodbye, Zira…”_ Click.

Crowley felt every atom tremble. His hand still gripped his cell with fervor, as though Aziraphale would return his call any moment there. Of course, he didn’t.

The decision to stick around the bookshop and wait for Aziraphale’s return seemed like a rather good plan at first. Crowley would wait up for him and when the angel came back he would apologize, profusely. He would beg for forgiveness on his hands and knees if he was so prompted to do so if it meant he didn’t screw up 6,000 goddamn years. It wasn't hard to keep the shop closed; it was closed half the time when Aziraphale _was_ around.

Alone, Crowley had a lot of time to be with his thoughts. He didn't like that one bit.

The more memories of the things he’d said resurfaced the more wretched Crowley felt. How could he have spoken to him like that? Aziraphale had called him cruel he – he had _begged_ him to stop. And Crowley had just kept on. He’d rambled and rambled, not paying mind to how much he was pushing the angel away. For god’s sake, he’d brought tears to his eyes! He’d sent him running from the bookshop, from his home. Crowley’s image of himself had never been the strongest, but this had blossomed newfound hatred. Crowley cursed the wine he drank that night, he cursed the lotacracies that swam through his mind. He cursed _himself_.

Aziraphale would be back any time now, he thought nervously. He couldn’t possibly stay away from his precious books for too long, right?

_Wrong._

Hours stretched into days and still, Crowley stayed put, eyes on the door. He looked rather like a sad puppy waiting for their owner to return, what with the pout that seemed near-permanently etched into his face. The sobbing and excessive drinking might've been less puppy-like in comparison.

More messages were left.

_“Aziraphale, I’m sorry. I – I should never have spoken to you that way and I apologize. Profusely. Please, call back when you can.”_ Click.

_“Listen, I know I’ve been an idiot and I know you’re angry. Believe me, I get that. But I really think we should talk.” Click._

_“Zira…please…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You can be angry, you can slap me if you want. Get me discorporate, I don’t care. I just want to see you…”_ Click.

_“…Angel…”_ Click.

Each was more desperate than the last.

Crowley had stayed holed up in the bookshop for four blasted days – leaving only a few times to water his plants, and even then, he couldn’t muster so much as a shout at them – and he had never in his long life felt more restless. Not in heaven. Not in hell. Not even in the 6,000 years, he’d spent helplessly falling for the angel. Four days was too long. Aziraphale should have been back now. He’d _expected_ he be back by now. Hoped, anyway.

Crowley knew a thing or two about disappearing. He’d been rather good at it, dipping out for a few decades when times grew tough or feelings got hard to handle. Never in those moments had it dawned on him how much the absence of someone you love can wear on you. This ache in his chest was a new one. Not the usual lovesickness, not the longing. This was loneliness, fear, anger. It was everything he felt for Aziraphale multiplied by the panic that maybe he'd never want to see him again. Oh god, what if he never wanted to see him again? Crowley felt like a shell of a ~~demon~~ man. Like he was falling apart.

Crowley had wanted to wait for Aziraphale, to give him time to cool off. It felt like the right thing to do, that was one of the things that made Crowley such an awful demon. More often than not he was concerned with doing the right thing. But it was becoming clearer and clearer that “time to cool off” looked like it could be a lot longer than Crowley had bargained for. He didn’t think he could take a couple more days of this isolation, neverminded weeks? Years? Decades? The thought alone was enough to make Crowley’s head drum painfully. No, waiting wasn’t going to be an option. No matter how much Aziraphale was upset by the interruption, or if he drove him away, Crowley couldn’t bring himself to stand by and let their relationship fall apart. He had to try, at least.

=+=

Crowley had always had a sense of where Aziraphale was in the world. _What_? Did you think it was by sheer coincidence that he had happened to be in the same area as the angel so many times throughout their years together? Sometimes it was a faint tinging in the back of his mind, a gentle reminder that the angel was never far off. Other times it was a rush of panic, crashing over him in waves of anxiety. Those were the times when Aziraphale was in a heap of trouble, and Crowley had always made sure to be present in those moments. Right this moment, it seemed to be an uneven mix of the two.

Crowley knew where his angel was, and wanted or not, he was on his way driving like a bat out of hell. That is to say, how he always drove. 


	3. Finally, finally Loving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds Aziraphale and finally, they talk.

The church had been abandoned for many years now, a decade at least. Aziraphale couldn’t say for sure. The small building was tucked away into a rather sketchy part of Soho. The neighborhood had fallen on disrepair, the church having suffered the most. The once beautiful – at least Aziraphale assumed they had once been beautiful – stained glass windows had been smashed years ago, shards of colored glass still strewn in the aisle. Sections of the roof had caved in, uneven bits of sunlight streaming through. Despite the light, the building was awfully grey. Awfully sad.

It seemed like a good place to be sad then, Aziraphale thought to himself, sitting in one of the few not overturned pews. A worthy place to think.

He hadn’t meant to run away. Not really, anyway. It was all just so difficult. Crowley’s words were still burning a hole in his mind, days later. The anger in Crowley’s frantic declaration had awakened something small and scared in Aziraphale and the things he’d said – all of the many wild things he’d said – had reminded him of something he’d meant to put away long ago.

_“Do I go too fast for you, Aziraphale?_ Is _6,000 years too fucking fast?!”_

He’d loved him. All this time, Crowley had loved him. Crowley, a _demon_ , loved Aziraphale, an _angel_. And Aziraphale had loved him just the same for just as long.

That night, the angel’s mind had been positively reeling and, if he were really human and not just an oculate being inhabiting a human-shaped body, he was sure his heart would’ve given out by now.

It wasn’t like Aziraphale had _no idea_ that there was a possibility that the feelings he’d spent centuries trying to bury were reciprocated. He’d always felt as though there was just a little bit of love that followed after him when Crowley was around, but that was often chalked up to coincidence. But now it was out in the open, Crowley had _actually_ said it. Such bravery. Aziraphale loathed his own cowardice but, goodness, it was all happening so quickly!

They’d just been talking and drinking, _like usual_ , and suddenly Crowley laid everything out on the table. To say the least, it had caught Aziraphale by surprise. It was a conversation that he was by no means prepared for – and certainly not one he’d been expecting! And oh dear, Crowley had been so sad. Aziraphale couldn’t recall when he’d last seen his friend so miserable. It broke his heart in two. The thought of the despair settled onto the demon’s face made his chest raw with ache. Aziraphale didn’t appreciate that Crowley had been so damned drunk when he brought it up but, god, he’d just wanted to talk! And what had Aziraphale done? Why he’d run away!

Run away like a frightened human child. He hadn’t meant to, really, and he had _meant_ to come back that very same night. But then he’d found the church and it seemed like such a good place to get his thoughts in order and…

… and, well it appeared that he had more to get in order than he might’ve imagined.

If he thought back far enough, he could remember how Crowley had made him feel the day they met on the wall. How there had been a flutter in his chest, and how he’d banished that feeling just as quickly as it had come because Crowley was a demon. The personification of wickedness. His bitter enemy. And that _wretched_ feeling was foreign to him.

Except…Crowley hadn’t seemed all that wicked. Well. There was that business with tempting humanity and turning them mortal. But besides that, he seemed like a rather good person to talk to. And oh, did Aziraphale get lonely when it came to spending time with other angels. He’d never found much of a connection with them, they were all a little too cold, but when it came to Crowley, immediately there was something there.

Something Aziraphale had failed to recognize the magnitude of until it was much too late.

Though Aziraphale had never actually fallen, it felt as though he had been in the process of falling for centuries. It was a gentle descent, so much so that he hadn’t realized he’d been falling at all. Not for a long time, anyway. And once the realization finally, finally struck him, it felt like it had already been going on for eternity. Like it had always been happening and it always would.

The smallest thing could set his old fragile heart roaring with emotion these days, Aziraphale realized painfully. The slight upturn of lips into a smirk. A room filled with brilliantly green plants. A walk much more like a serpent than anything else, something much more attractive than it ought to be. Fiery red hair, always changing throughout the years, yet always seeming like the perfect thing for hands to be swept through. Eyes like mutant gold, eyes he so rarely got to see. But when he did…oh how he cherished those moments. Their beauty forced Aziraphale into questioning; in reality, they had since Eden. Questioning about how anything that beautiful could be anything but divine.

Aziraphale pinched his temple, groaning aloud in the empty room. It was the most difficult thing that Aziraphale had ever dealt with in the entirety of his very long life, these feelings for Crowley. Spending as long as he had trying to combat and deny and explain away, the issue being tossed into his lap was making Aziraphale feel like he was going rather mad. 6,000 years of denial can do that to a person, you know.

He’d always been afraid of what could happen to the two of them if their sides found out about their “fraternizing” and what it truly meant to them. It was a passionate and reasonable concern that had been the main thing that’d kept him from so much as thinking about the sparkle of Crowley’s eyes, for once he did there would be no going back. And then there was God. As an angel, Aziraphale’s connection to her was as close to sacred as it could get. He revered and loved God for the world that she’d created and the things in it. But Crowley, fallen or not, was one of her creations too. Her best work, he thought to himself with reverence.

Since the apocalypse failed to show up and the moments that had let up to it prior, Aziraphale’s connection to heaven and God felt severed. He still prayed to her, and he still believed he had love for her in his heart but…no matter how he tried he couldn’t see himself on that side anymore. Not hell’s either, to be fair. But certainly not heaven’s.

_“We’re on our own side.”_ Crowley’s words rang in his mind and finally, fully he recognized that they were true. If it came down to it, in having to choose between heaven or Crowley, he’d chose his demon in a heartbeat. _His_ Demon. That phrasing made his chest burn. As he sat there alone in a ransacked church in Soho, Aziraphale understood for the first time that his love for Crowley outweighed everything else. It’d been that way for a long time, but now he was sure. It didn’t matter how frightened he was of change, or of losing what he’d once had because this was better. Crowley was better. And just then, a figure materialized in the doorway.

“Angel! _Oh_ – oh thank Satan!” Aziraphale stiffened, whipping around to see Crowley standing there in the sunlight doorframe, so bright it was as if the demon’s presence was radiating it. Aziraphale’s chest tightened, stomach twisted into a tight knot.

Crowley looked positively awful. His hair, always so neatly combed, was now a frazzled mess. His usual stylish pair of sunglasses were missing, the demon’s wide serpentine eyes on display. His clothes were rumpled, looking as though he’d slept in them at least once and been wearing them for some time. And then there was the expression his face was twisted into. It was a sad, mournful look, one a person might wear if they’ve just lost someone very important to them. The thought of that made Aziraphale ill. The angel’s spine went ram-rode straight as he looked into Crowley’s eyes, his mind once again abuzz with fear. Even with the conclusion, he’d just come to, seeing Crowley here now made his heartbeat flutter uneasily.

“Crowley…” He wanted to say more, much more, but the words crumbled like sand in his mouth. He just sat and stared at the demon, who looked at him like he was seeing a ghost. And Aziraphale, well he certainly hadn’t been expecting Crowley to come to him. He was used to the demon showing up when he was in trouble, sure, that was usual for him. But he wasn’t in any trouble at this moment.

“’ Ziraphale – I –.” Crowley seemed to choke on the words, his face screwed up in a panic before he got ahold of himself a little better. “I’m so sorry.” _Oh_ , that hurt. There was a rawness to Crowley’s voice like the apology was coming deep from the gut, scratching at his esophagus the whole way up. He said it like it hurt him. Suddenly, Aziraphale felt as though his friend had very little to be sorry for, less than he did, anyhow. Even with the things that he’d said…his feelings were justified. Aziraphale rose onto unsteady legs, standing to face his oldest friend. “L-listen,” Crowley said unevenly, “I know you don’t want me here now. And – and I know I should leave you alone, but I needed to talk to you.” Aziraphale hardly noticed that the demon was crossing the threshold and walking slowly toward him, even with the uncomfortable way he was striding, too focused on the sorrow in his tone. “Angel, I’ve said rotten things to you and I…I had no right. I never meant to speak to you the way I did, you don’t deserve that.” Aziraphale worried at his bottom lip, the air feeling heavy around them. “ _Please_ …talk to me. Yell at me. Just, say something, for somebody’s sake!” The last sentence came out in more of a strangled cry than a shout.

Now, Crowley was directly in front of Aziraphale, trying his best not to wobble uncomfortably. Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in a wide ‘o’ as he finally remembered that they were in a church for heaven’s sake!

“Oh dear, Crowley! What on earth are you doing in here?! This is consecrated ground, you’ll get hurt!” Crowley made a face, eyes shining. Clearly, that wasn't what he'd expected Aziraphale tp say.

“…w-whut?”

Before he could say much else he was being physically dragged out of the building by the arm. His heart only started to beat faster.

“Wait – h-hang on, angel! Aziraphale!” Aziraphale said nothing more, not until they were on the church’s steps and he sat Crowley down.

“Dear boy, you are a _demon_. You can’t just waltz into a church that way, you’ll get hurt. I’m a right fool to have forgotten that for a moment.” Aziraphale scolded the demon, worry still deeply evident in his tone. Crowley blinked at the angel sitting beside him, tongue flicking out at his lip nervously.

“I – I came to talk to you. It was worth it for a couple of blisters – Christ, Aziraphale, I thought I’d lost you… _again_ ,” – his words cut through Aziraphale once more –, “I didn’t know when you were coming back or – or how upset I’d made you. I called, and I called but you didn’t say anything and I…well, I panicked.” Crowley’s usual cool tone was no more, replaced with a healthy dose of unadulterated fear of losing the one he loved once. Aziraphale sighed, shoulders sagging.

“Oh dear…Crowley. I, well I left without my mobile. I've been without it for days.” Crowley frowned, jaw tightening.

“…ah.”

A beat of silence held out between the two, long and uncomfortable before Aziraphale cleared his throat and their eyes met again.

“Crowley, I am dreadfully sorry.” Crowley frowned, sitting up straight. 

“ _You’re_ sorry? Angel, whatever for? I had no right to talk to you the way I did and –.”

“No, you didn’t,” Aziraphale agreed, “ _But_ despite that, the things you said…they were true. Every last one of them. I’ve been selfish, I’ve always been selfish.” Crowley swallowed a lump in his throat, a hand finding its way to the angel’s knee.

“No, you haven’t been selfish. Good lord – I should’ve said that. you’re wonderful, angel. So goddamn wonderful. It’s my fault, being too impatient that is. I should know that we’re at different comfort levels. I should know I go too fa–.” And then Aziraphale’s lips were on his, hands threaded in the demon’s fiery hair. Crowley’s body tensed, frozen in apprehension as he made a muffled sound into Aziraphale’s mouth before his hands gripped onto the angle’s back, eyes falling closed as he returned the kiss that had waited 6,000 years to happen. The embrace was far too short for either of their liking, but still, they broke apart, staring doe-eyed and breathing hard.

“’ Z-‘Zira…” Crowley muttered breathlessly, eyes bright and wide.

“I-I’ve had a lot of time to think about what you said, being here. About us…” Aziraphale said softly, hands finding their way to cup Crowley’s cheeks, “…and I do believe I’ve caught up to you, my dear.” A smile slowly unfolded itself across Crowley’s face, tears pricking at just the corners of his eyes. “Aziraphale, angel oh…oh you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of this,” Crowley gulped, smile so wide it looked as though it’d crack his face in half.

“I should’ve seen it sooner, darling. I should’ve, but I didn’t. That you, you’re the best of them. The best of all of them. I love you, Crowley. Oh, more than anything. I’m sorry I took so long. Forgive me, won’t you?” Crowley let out a watery laugh, pulling Aziraphale closer to him so that their lips could meet again.

“Yes, 'course,” he whispered against the angel’s lips, lips he planned on spending the next 6,000 years kissing senselessly, “ _Satan_ , yes. You were worth the wait, Aziraphale. You’re worth anything. I love you, angel, my angel. I’ve loved you for all of time.”

"As have I, dear boy. My darling demon."

Tensions of the last few days melted into nothing, quickly forgotten. The pair sat on the church steps long into the day and night, talking and kissing and finally, _finally_ loving the way they had meant to be for a long while. It was alright, they had till the end of time to make up for it. And they would.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for giving this little story a read, I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly had a good time writing it. I'd love to hear what you think. Have a good day/night :)


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